The Missing Wife

by Sam Carrington

  ‘I’ve held off calling them – didn’t want to create a fuss, not yet. We’d had, well … a bit of an argument. Melissa often gets emotional; angry too. She goes off on her own sometimes to sort her head out – doesn’t contact me for days, then comes waltzing back as though nothing ever happened. I assumed this was one of those times. It might still be, I guess. It’s only been just over forty-eight hours.’

  ‘Assumed. You said assumed. What has changed now, to make you think it might not be one of those times?’

  ‘You. You happened.’

  ‘Ah, no … no.’ Louisa put both hands up to her temples, her elbows resting on the table. ‘Don’t bring me into this. What have I got to do with it?’ Louisa got up then, moving away from Oliver. She strode across the kitchen and opened the door leading to the hallway. ‘On second thoughts, don’t answer that. I’m not interested. You can’t show up after twenty-two years and land this on me. I think you should leave now.’ She swung her arm towards the door. ‘Please,’ she added.

  ‘Louisa. I need you. Your help. I’m about to go to the police and report her as missing. They’re going to ask me all sorts of questions – they’ll blame me, I know they will.’ He was beside her now, the warmth of his body perceptible. He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s always the husband, Lou. That’s what they believe – the police, the general public. Always.’ His eyes pleaded with Louisa’s. ‘You can help me. Like I once helped you.’

  Louisa reeled back from him. ‘I don’t know what you think you did for me but I can assure you, I can’t help you, Oliver. Go to the police, do what you have to do. I really hope Melissa is just having some time out and returns home quickly. Good luck.’ She ushered him through the hall and out of the house.

  Leaning against the closed front door, Louisa’s breaths came in short bursts.

  You can help me, like I once helped you.

  She repeated the sentence in her head. Did his voice have an edge of desperation? It’d sounded almost menacing.

  She screamed as a force banged against the door, propelling her back away from it.

  ‘Please, Lou. At least come with me to the police? I can’t do this on my own.’ His voice sounded distorted through the glass.

  ‘Why? Why should I? I’m sorry about Melissa, Oliver, I really am. But I’m not coming with you,’ she shouted.

  ‘But I think it might have been to do with your party. Something happened there, I’m sure of it. Please, Lou-Lou, they’ll want to ask you about the party anyway, may as well come with me – it’ll save you time later.’

  His words created a wall of fear around her.

  Something had happened that night.

  She opened the door again.

  ‘But I didn’t see Melissa at the party,’ she said coolly. Her voice belied her feelings.

  ‘You must’ve.’ His voice was almost a whisper. Worry, or concern – or maybe disbelief – etched itself on Oliver’s face.

  ‘I – I don’t remember. I’d had so much to drink. The evening is pretty much one big blur.’ Louisa regretted her words instantly. If she couldn’t remember anything, she couldn’t tell the police anything. But at the same time, it meant she couldn’t confidently deny seeing Melissa, or knowing anything about her disappearance either.

  Louisa’s stomach twisted as she suddenly questioned whether Oliver could be lying. He did say Melissa had gone off for days at a time before – it was possible he knew this was just one of those times but was making it out to be more purely to make Louisa feel sorry for him.

  She should call his bluff.

  ‘Wait there, then. I’ll get Noah’s car seat.’

  If it was a bluff, it was a convincing one, and Oliver had now taken it to the next level.

  Louisa waited on a plastic chair in the reception of Newton police station, Noah in his car seat next to her. Oliver had been in there for over an hour, and Louisa’s bum was now numb, her patience wearing thin. It crossed her mind that if Melissa really had gone missing, then some woman with a baby accompanying the missing person’s husband to the police station might look a bit off. Particularly if they discovered she was Oliver’s ex-girlfriend whose party he’d just so happened to be at when his wife was last seen.

  Finally, a door opened along the left-hand corridor and Oliver sloped out, his head hung low. The impossibly tall man, who’d introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Mack, then called her name. She picked up Noah’s seat and made her way to the room Oliver had just vacated. As she passed him, Oliver placed a hand on her arm, giving it a squeeze. He looked terrible – his usually tanned skin now looking pale and waxy.

  Louisa was only in the small interview room for about twenty minutes. DS Mack asked her a list of questions relating to her party: the time it started and ended, how many guests, if she remembered when people left, if she remembered seeing Melissa. There was a lot about what she remembered. Louisa’s head spun. She told him she didn’t remember some of the details, like when it ended, because she’d gone to bed before the guests had all left. She stated she had not seen Melissa. Her memory couldn’t exactly be classed as reliable, so it was best not to give information that might turn out to be misleading. After all, Louisa may well have been mistaken – her shock at the surprise party had meant she wasn’t taking in everything right. The woman at Oliver’s side when she’d first encountered him at the top of the stairs could’ve been another guest arriving at the same time as him.

  The drive back to Louisa’s was peppered with awkward silences. Oliver only spoke a few sentences – mainly repeating the same thing:

  ‘You know I wouldn’t harm anyone. You know that, Lou-Lou, don’t you?’

  From what little he’d said about how he’d been treated in the interview room after reporting Melissa as missing, Louisa had to conclude that Oliver had been right: the suspicion he was somehow involved in her disappearance was clear. He’d told the police of their argument and once he’d mentioned that, he said the atmosphere altered.

  ‘They’re assuming they’ll find her under my floorboards,’ he said. He appeared serious. Louisa suddenly felt sorry for him.

  When they reached Louisa’s road it was five-thirty. Brian’s car wasn’t parked outside, so Louisa allowed Oliver to drop her right to the gate so that she wouldn’t have far to carry Noah’s car seat.

  ‘I hope she comes back, Oliver. She might already be at your place when you get there.’

  The humph sound he made suggested he didn’t believe that but something niggled inside Louisa. Did he know she wouldn’t, couldn’t, return?

  Oliver cupped Louisa’s chin with one hand, turning her face so she was looking directly at him. Their noses were almost touching. Oliver’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘I didn’t have anything to do with it,’ he said. His breath tickled Louisa’s skin. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about how close their faces were – how easy it would be just to kiss him.

  ‘I wasn’t saying you had,’ she said. But Oliver’s expression was one of disbelief, like somehow he’d just read her thoughts.

  ‘Really, Louisa. I’ve no idea what went on. I think it might’ve been something at the party that sparked her to disappear voluntarily. Or it wasn’t voluntary and someone else from that night is responsible.’

  Icy tendrils touched her spine.

  Not only had she not wanted, or asked for, a party full of people she barely knew – but now this party was turning out to be a nightmare, one that clearly wasn’t going to go away any time soon. Not if Oliver suspected something at her party had caused Melissa’s disappearance. Not knowing how to respond, Louisa instead told Oliver to let her know if there were any developments and, breaking the strange bond that had held her in his gaze, she turned away from him and opened the car door.

  Blood.

  Blonde hair matted with blood.

  A woman.

  Louisa gasped and sat bolt upright, pulling the duvet off Brian. Despite this, he slept on, oblivious to her rapid breathi
ng and distress. Sweat trickled down her back. She didn’t know why she was seeing these images, but she was convinced that the woman in her dream was Melissa. In reality she’d never seen Melissa’s face, but in her dream she felt it was Melissa; knew it was her. But now, just moments later, she could no longer recollect the woman’s face. Scrunching her eyes tightly, she did manage to retrieve a vague memory, but only of the woman’s body – her below-the-knee black dress, slim, tanned calves and her feet: pretty gold-painted toenails.

  So, she did remember something about her.

  Cold grass. Tickling her feet.

  She didn’t know where her shoes were.

  She wanted a cigarette.

  A voice behind her.

  Louisa clutched her abdomen as a wave of nausea rippled through her as quickly as the memory had.

  Something bad happened on Friday night. She could feel it.

  It was a feeling she’d known before.

  15

  THE CHAT

  Tuesday – Day 4 post-party

  ‘Hey, Tiff. Are you free for a coffee this afternoon?’ Louisa fiddled with her dressing gown cord, twiddling it in one hand as she held her mobile to her ear.

  ‘Um … I’ve got a meeting at school at lunchtime, so would be towards two-ish, will that do you?’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Louisa gave a dejected laugh. ‘Pop around when you finish.’

  ‘Is everything okay? You sound a bit down.’ Louisa could sense Tiff’s concerned frown.

  ‘I could do with a chat, that’s all.’

  ‘Sure thing. I’ll drop into the shop on my way, get some yummy pastries!’

  ‘You know the way to my heart, Tiff.’

  ‘Of course, darling. Right, must run. See you soon.’ And the line went dead.

  Louisa sighed. She’d felt numb ever since Oliver turned up at the house yesterday; she’d wandered around not really knowing what to do with herself. Being on her own most days, with only Noah for company, was beginning to make her stir-crazy. She should be going to every baby group running because being with other mothers and babies would make her feel as though everything she was experiencing was normal, but she couldn’t shake the awkwardness she’d felt when she’d been to Bounce and Play last time. Forty wasn’t the oldest age anyone had ever had children, but she was the oldest in that group. She was experiencing different things to most of the mums; she didn’t quite fit in, couldn’t relate to all the chat. It appeared the worst of their worries was getting their flat bellies back.

  She could really do with returning to work more quickly than planned, to get back to adult interactions again – avoid baby talk completely. She’d told the accountancy firm that she was taking a full year, but now a few months had passed she was coming to realise that was unrealistic. Yes, she wanted to give Noah the start – the attention – she’d given to Emily when she’d had her, but it was different this time.

  The boss was fine with her taking the full year. Louisa had worked there since leaving college; she was one of the longest-serving accountants at the firm. Whilst other people saw that as an achievement, Louisa knew deep down it was because she couldn’t face changing jobs, learning something new. She could carry out her role there without much thought, running on autopilot, which would suit her just fine when she went back with what Tiff lovingly called ‘baby brain’.

  Louisa checked her phone for texts, then her Facebook, just in case Oliver had messaged, updating her on Melissa’s missing status. Nothing. He’d been all for gaining her help yesterday, begging her to go with him to the police – and now he didn’t have the decency to keep her in the loop. Perhaps she should text him. The thought played on her mind for a few minutes before she gave in to it.

  Any news on Melissa?

  She’d kept it simple to ensure there could be no misinterpretation. Then she paced the lounge, waiting for her phone to ping.

  Twenty minutes went by and he still hadn’t responded. Perhaps she should turn up at his door this time, but she had no clue where his rented flat was. His Facebook account still stated Lives in York. Presumably he hadn’t updated his page since he’d got married either as his relationship status read ‘single’. He’d told Brian that following his whirlwind romance with Melissa, he’d persuaded her to move to York to be with him. Apparently, she was a Devon girl too, although Oliver hadn’t gone into detail about how they’d met and supposedly Brian hadn’t been interested enough to ask. Louisa knew they’d only come back to Devon recently, and that it was temporary – to set up a new branch of Oliver’s business.

  Louisa wondered whether it was because he wasn’t planning on staying long that he hadn’t bothered updating any of his social media. Mind you, she couldn’t deduce much from Oliver’s Facebook page because she wasn’t actually friends with him. She could only see the posts he’d made public – and his profile pictures, which for a reason she’d never fathomed, were always public on the site, regardless. But none of those depicted Melissa, or the two of them together, which was rather odd being that he was newly married. Louisa had thought he’d want to show Melissa off.

  She wondered if she should send a friend request so she could see more information though it was possible, she mused, that he was like her and didn’t use the social media platform much. It may have been something he used purely to get in contact with her.

  The thought made her feel queasy. Why, after all this time, had Oliver Dunmore looked her up?

  Louisa didn’t settle, her muscles tense, jumpy. Pacing seemed to be the only thing she could do. She’d put Noah down to sleep after she’d fed and changed him at one, and he’d gone out like a light. She made sure to put a tick next to the time on the sheet she’d created for today’s feeds, then made use of the time by pottering around in the kitchen. She’d even managed to collect a dirty pile of washing from Emily’s bedroom floor and put it in the machine. Now, at just after two o’clock, she noticed Tiff’s car draw up outside. Louisa rushed to the door before Tiff could ring the bell and wake Noah up; she needed uninterrupted time with her friend.

  ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’ Tiff gave Louisa a one-armed hug, her other hand holding a bag of pastries. She walked on through to the kitchen, and retrieved two plates from the cupboard. Tiff often made herself at home and knew where Louisa kept everything.

  ‘I assume you have bottled water?’ she asked, bending to check the fridge.

  ‘Not cold, no – there’s a bottle in the larder, though.’ Louisa allowed Tiff to take over her kitchen. In a weird way, she enjoyed being mothered. Her own mum didn’t visit anymore, and after their ‘falling-out’ episode, Louisa only made infrequent trips to her parents’ home and even then it was only if one of them called, usually to say there was a problem that only Louisa could deal with.

  The last time had been almost a month ago, and that was to change the hallway lightbulb. They’d barely set eyes on Noah – and for a reason Louisa couldn’t understand, didn’t seem all that bothered that they were missing out on his early months. She knew they were getting old now, but she had to admit, their lack of interest hurt her feelings. No matter what they’d fallen out about, their baby grandson should not be the one paying for it. Emily was in the midst of her teenage ‘I don’t want to visit them’ stage anyway, so she wasn’t worried about the lack of contact.

  The argument had been so pathetic, too. Louisa remembered it had started when her mum had made a flippant remark about her anxiety attacks back in college – how Louisa had been poor at coping even back then. But as with most family arguments, she couldn’t remember how it had progressed to this point; how it’d stretched on for years. It was as though now it had begun, one of them had to carry it on to the bitter end, neither wanting to be the first one to ‘give in’ and apologise.

  ‘Here you go,’ Tiff said, handing Louisa the You’re My Queen mug Brian had bought her for Valentine’s Day. Because they needed more mugs.

  ‘I know you said you couldn’t remember much
about my party, but I need you to tell me everything you do remember. You said you’d met Oliver; did you meet his wife too?’

  ‘Bits and pieces came back to me, you know how it is. Of course I remember the delightful Oliver. He’s so gorgeous, Lou.’ Tiff gave a coy smile.

  ‘Yes, yes – he’s certainly pleasant to look at …’

  ‘I can’t remember him even mentioning his wife though, let alone seeing her. Are you sure she was there?’

  ‘Well, this is the thing, Tiff. I think I saw her standing alongside Oliver when I first saw him, but I was too shocked seeing him there to take her in. Brian doesn’t remember seeing her, and now, neither do you. And I’m not sure enough to say either way.’

  ‘What does it matter?’

  ‘She’s missing.’

  ‘God, really?’ Tiff gasped. Louisa observed an immediate spark of interest light up her face.

  ‘Yes, and the last place Oliver saw her was at my party.’

  ‘Did she just go home early?’ She frowned. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d got the hump – Oliver was rather, let’s say, familiar, with some of the female guests.’

  ‘You, you mean.’

  ‘We seemed to hit it off, yes.’ A smile played at the edges of her mouth. She really could be incorrigible at times.

  ‘He was smooth even when he was only eighteen. He’s downright slippery now it seems.’

  ‘I didn’t get that kind of creepy, smarmy vibe though, Lou. And let’s face it, my radar for those types is pretty good.’

  ‘Yes, I know. But something isn’t right about all this.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘The timing for one. Why after all these years has he decided to make an effort to contact me – and just a year after getting married? And why make that first contact at my surprise birthday party of all places?’

  ‘Opportunity? I gave him that by accepting his invite to join the Exeter College group, didn’t I. So, he took it. I don’t see anything malign in that.’